Once Upon a Time
by Hogwarts Online II
Summary: The latest collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. A series of stories by different authors, loosely based on fairytles and other tales from our childhood. Please read and review!
1. Rapunzel by Priya

_Welcome to the latest collaboration from Hogwarts Online! This is a series of stories by different authors (loosely) based on fairytales and other tales from our childhoods. We hope you enjoy them. Please read and review!_

* * *

**Rapunzel**

by

FredRocks29 (Priya - Ravenclaw)

_Character - Andromeda Black_

_Fairytale - Rapunzel_

'Cygnus... Cygnus, could you p-please bring me rapunzel?'

'But Druella, there is only one place where rapunzel grows – in the old hag's garden! I can't go in there!'

'It – it is the o-only thing that can cure me... I will d-die otherwise...'

His wife's life is slipping away as they speak, in soft voices so as not to wake little Bella. Her ghostly pale fingers grip his tightly, her eyes closed, and her breathing is laboured.

'Please, Cygnus... please?'

He knows what he has to do, what he has to do to save her. So he does it; he sneaks into the hag's garden to take the rapunzel. He gives it to his wife, and ever so slowly, she begins to get better. She has to have the rapunzel every day, though. She becomes addicted.

So every night, he is to be found creeping out of his stately home and into the overgrown, weed-ridden garden of the hag. One night, though, as he is about to leave, a hand grabs his upper arm in a viciously tight grip. It is more like a claw, and he knows instantly that he has been caught.

The hag allows him to escape, but on one condition: that he hands his next-born child over to her. Abandoning all his Slytherin cunning, he agrees recklessly. He will give _anything _to make sure Druella is safe. Maybe there is some Gryffindor in him after all.

...

When their second daughter is born, the hag appears outside his door. His wife screams and nearly drops the baby; he still hasn't told her about the deal that he made.

'The time has come for you told uphold your side of the deal, wizard.' she wheezes.

'Deal? I do not know what you are talking about, hag. Now stop dirtying my doorstep and go away.' He tries to say it coldly, but he is sure that she can hear the tremor of fear in his voice.

'Oh, I think you know which deal. Now hand the child over, or I will take her by force.'

'Take – take the baby? Cygnus, what is she talking about?'

Druella's eyes are large and frightened, and he has no idea what he should do. Before he can reach a decision, the hag has snapped her fingers. His daughter flies out of his wife's arms, through the air and towards the hag.

'_Stop her, Cygnus!' _

He lunges, misses the hag, and falls face-forward on the floor. By now, the hag has disappeared with the baby, and Druella is screaming.

...

'Andromeda, Andromeda, let down your long hair.'

The girl with the long, shining, chestnut brown hair leans out of the window towards the hag who named her.

She lives in a tower with no door or staircase; the only way for the hag to reach her is by climbing up her hair.

'Here is your food.'

The girl take the plate gratefully and lets her hair down for the hag to return to the outside world. It has been sixteen years since she has been out of the tower.

...

Andromeda is singing, watching birds fly past her window to pass the time. Normally, she is happy inside her room; but sometimes, she has sad days, when she wishes she could be outside in the with the wildlife.

On her sad days, she normally gets the memories too. Lying in the arms of a woman with dark hair and sparkling eyes, a small girl with a cruel smile poking her. And always, always , there is the odd feeling, like she is flying.

...

Ted Tonks is happy. Very happy. He has graduated from Hogwarts with good grades, his parents have given him a lot of money to spend, and he has a brand-new broomstick. As he glides smoothly through the woods on his Silver Arrow, he hears melodic singing, far off in the distance.

He flies towards the sound that is becoming louder, and it is the most beautiful singing he has ever heard. When it is so near that it seems to be coming from above his head, he sees it.

The enormous grey tower, so tall that he can only see the top if he cranes his neck. It is then that he realises that there is someone _living _here, because the singing is practically on top of him now.

Then he sees the hag. Hurrying towards the tower, straight at him. He dives behind a bush and watches in astonishment. The hag calls up to the top of the tower, and a long, gleaming plait winds its way down the bricks. As the hag disappears through a high window, he knows that he must meet this girl with the beautiful hair and the beautiful voice.

...

When she hears her name being called for the second time that day, she thinks that the hag must have forgotten something and is coming back. She lets down her hair, and nearly faints from shock when a man, a real living _man _climbs into her room.

'Who are _you?_' she asks rudely; the hag has taught her to fear strangers. She can't help noticing, however, that the man is very handsome. His blond hair flops into his baby blue eyes, as he holds his hand out for her to shake.

'I'm Ted Tonks. You?'

...

She is honestly the prettiest girl he has ever seen in his life. He introduces himself, and it strikes him that the situation is very odd; he is shaking hands with a girl who has several feet-long hair, lives in a tower and is visited by a hag. He doesn't think he's ever done anything like this.

'I'm Andromeda. Just Andromeda.'

He can't help it anymore, he just has to ask.

'Why do you live in this tower?'

'So that my mind won't be infected by strangers. Especially wizards.'

This sounds rehearsed, and he wonders if the hag has told her to say this.

'Is that what you really think?' he asks. She looks up at him, brown eyes locking on blue, and he sees the truth.

'No. It's not what I think. I want to meet wizards, and I want to learn magic, and I want to escape from this tower. But the hag won't let me.'

'I'm a wizard. I – I can teach you magic, if you want.'

...

'Andromeda... I've brought you something.'

She looks up from the spellbook. He has been teaching her magic, bringing her school textbooks and lending his wand to her. The past few weeks have been the happiest in her life, passing in a blur of charms and transfiguration and _Ted, _and she dreads the times when he isn't there.

He is holding out a long, thin box, with a purple ribbon tied around it. She takes it, curious, and gasps in surprise as she realises what it is. She draws out the wand, her hands shaking, and feels a sudden warmth spread through her, from her fingertips outwards.

'Where did you get it?' she breathes.

'I went to Diagon Alley, pretended I'd broken my wand. It just... seemed like the right one for you.'

'It's... it's beautiful, Ted. Thank you so much.'

He blushes, and then she hugs him tightly. She tries to tell him how grateful she is without words, because she's not exactly sure how to say what's she's feeling.

...

One day, they are sitting together in her room, and he is helping her to learn _Wingardium Leviosa. _

'Andromeda, Andromeda, let down your long hair.'

She looks at him fearfully, her eyes wide, and he doesn't even want to think about what will happen if the hag finds them together.

'What are we going to do?' he whispers.

'Here... in here!'

She pulls open the door to her wardrobe, and he squeezes inside. He finds himself right next to a beautiful, sky-blue gown. It smells just like her.

He's not sure exactly when it was that he stopped admiring her beauty and started loving her with all his heart. Maybe he always has; whatever it is, he still hasn't done anything about it. He wonders now if he will ever get the chance to.

His heart is beating so loudly that he wonders how on earth the hag can't hear him, from where she is standing right outside the cupboard. Suddenly, he hears a shriek.

'What is this? Where did you get this from?'

The hag has found the wand he bought her. He desperately wants to jump out of the wardrobe and curse the hag, or at least do _something _to help Andromeda.

'I – I just f-found it... p-please... I'm sorry!'

'You're lying! Don't lie to me, Andromeda! _Tell the truth!' _

He hears the most terrible scream of his life, and he knows instantly that the hag has used the Cruciatus Curse. He just can't bear it anymore, so he takes a deep breath and opens the door of the cupboard.

...

'Ted! No!'

She can't help the words that escape from her mouth; the hag can't find out about Ted, she just _can't. _She will willingly take the Cruciatus Curse for him, to save him. If Ted goes, she doesn't know what she'll do. She can't even remember what life was like without him.

'A _wizard? _You have been meeting with a wizard, after all I have taught you? Stupid, disgusting girl!'

Another spasm of pain shoots through her body, and even as she screams, she sees Ted pointing his wand at the hag, muttering a spell that she can't hear. The hag is thrown backwards, and he picks her up effortlessly.

'We need to get out of here.'

They are almost at the window when a voice cackles from behind them.

'Not so fast, my pretties!'

The hag, lying on the floor, snaps her fingers, and she suddenly feels very light-headed. The hag collapses, and she's not sure if her tormenter is dead or unconscious. And then, she catches sight of herself in the mirror, and gasps. Her hair, her long hair which she has been growing as far back as she can remember, it is _gone. _All that is left is a short, ugly mess that comes down to her ears.

Ted raises his wand again, this time pointing it at her.

'I'm going to levitate you out.'

...

He sinks down onto the ground next to her, and she rests her head on his shoulder. He doesn't want her to know the effect such a simple thing as this has on him, so he asks something stupid.

'Are you all right?'

She gives him a tired smile, and he can't stop gazing at her.

'Why did you do that? You could have just stayed in my wardrobe and waited.'

'_What? _How could I do that? She was _torturing _you, for Merlin's sake! I couldn't just stand there and listen!'

'Yes, but you could have died! I'm not that important.'

He looks at her, and he knows that he has to tell her now, or go on living with the knowledge that he'd missed his chance with her. He takes one last look at her beautiful face before he changes everything.

'Andromeda... I love you.'


	2. A Tale of Beauty & the Beast by Prissie

**Remus and Tonks: A Tale of Beauty and the Beast**

by

Fantasy Girl (Prissie - Ravenclaw)

_Character - Nymphadora Tonks_

_Fairytale - Beauty and the Beast_

I first met him at the wedding party of one of the Order members. Instantly, I knew there was something about him. Something more to him than what people saw. Something that made him special despite his shabby appearance and his being a werewolf.

I'd known he was a werewolf since before I met him. But that did nothing except made me even more curious about him. Those kind of creatures fascinate me – yes, I used to think of him as a 'creature', though now when I think back again, I think it's completely ridiculous as he is so much more human than a lot of people I know.

That day, my father was out in the garden, admiring a bush of bright pink roses. He was about to pick one for me – he knew how I loved roses; especially they're in my favorite color – when he heard a voice approach. "You wouldn't want to touch those." My father spun around and stared in shock, and there he stood, wearing a patched-up dress robe, Remus Lupin.

My father quickly composed himself and wondered, "And why is that?"

Remus Lupin stepped forward, "Because, as attractive as it looks, it is very poisonous."

At that moment, I'd come bounding up to my father and told him that Mum was looking for him. Once I've conveyed that message, I turned my attention to the eye-catching bush to my right.

"Hey, I've never seen these kinds of flowers before," I murmured curiously while reaching out to touch them.

I may be quick, but Remus Lupin was definitely quicker. He snatched my arm, avoiding it from having contact with those roses. I looked up at him amazedly, and tilted my head to the side, "What did you do hat for?"

He let go of my arm and answered, "You wouldn't want your skin to have contact with a _Rosa caroseus_. You'd suffer from a nasty rash for weeks."

I raised my eyebrows, "Well in that case, thanks. It's too bad, though. They're so pretty," I stared longingly.

Remus Lupin let out a short laugh. "Looks can fool," he said with a small smile. He was so right.

I held out my hand to him, "Nymphadora Tonks. But I'd prefer it if you called me Tonks."

He took my outstretched hand and shook it, "Remus Lupin. Call me Remus for short."

"Remus," I smiled and nodded.

At that moment, I came to full realization for the first time as to whom I was interacting with. A werewolf. One that I was so curious and fascinated about, too. I thought werewolves lacked self-control, but this one looked pretty decent to me. I quickly engaged him in a conversation. I found out that he was changed as a little child, and has been deeply sorrowful about his condition ever since. Soon enough, I found myself consoling him. Though I barely knew him, it seemed the natural thing to do.

Since that first encounter, we became good friends. He was nice to be around, so knowledgeable, caring, generous, and gentleman-like. He accepted my weird, clumsy, bubbly self without trying to change me one bit and I appreciated him very much for that.

We spent lots of time together before and after Order meetings, chatting away about nothing and everything. Sometimes – most of the time – he'd let me do most of the talking. He wouldn't interrupt; he'd just sit there and listen attentively.

One winter, we were assigned on an Order mission together. We were trusted with field surveillance and we had to camp out in the woods for several nights.

Inconveniently, something we didn't count on happened and we had to stay at the site a few weeks longer. I watched Remus get more and more restless each day. I thought he was frustrated because of our drawn-out mission. I was wrong.

Not only did he grow restless, he also became temperamental. One night after an argument, he stormed away from me and deeper into the forest. Of course I followed him. I guess I'd been experiencing so much normality with him and I've been focusing so much on the mission that I'd forgotten who – _what _– he was. So I was very taken aback when I nearly marched straight into a transforming werewolf.

I took a step backward in horror and noticed that tonight was a full moon. Suddenly, the beast before me spun around and faced me. There was _nothing_ I recognized in its features. Not a sign of the Remus I knew. It bared its teeth at me, looking ready to devour me. I raised my wand and cried 'Protego!' just in time as it launched itself at me. It staggered back slightly.

I panicked. I kept casting Shield Charms while stumbling backwards as the werewolf constantly sprang attacks on me, searching for a loophole in my defense. It's not that I didn't know how to handle these situations; it's just that _it_ was Remus! I was worried about it succeeding to attack me, but I was even more worried about hurting it!

Finally I managed to think straight and instantly knew the right thing to do. "Petrificus Totalus!" And there it lay on the forest floor, unmoving.

I cautiously approached it and crouched beside its still body.

Suddenly I heard muffled voices. They were coming in our direction. I stood up, whirled around, and there they were, five cloaked men, facing me.

I was torn with indecision. What was I supposed to do about Remus? Leave him petrified and a vulnerable target? But then would I be able to face them quickly enough before they got to Remus?

Or should I put the counter-curse on Remus, so he has a chance to escape, no matter the risk of him attacking me as well as them?

I made the decision. I quickly pointed my wand at the unmoving form of the beast, muttered the counter-curse, and turned my back to it, wishing with all my heart that it'd just get up and run away that instant. But to no one's surprise, it didn't.

I heard the beast growl as it got back up on its feet. Then I could feel it slinking in my direction. I braced myself, very doubtful that I could fight against six big, strong opponents at once.

The cloaked men took advantage of my moment of hesitance and pulled out their wands, ready to send curses flying at me.

Suddenly the beast behind me launched himself into their midst, knocking down two of those men. It landed on top of one of them and pierced its sharp teeth through the man's neck, practically ripping his skin apart and causing a generous amount of his blood to come flowing out. This caused a disruption amongst the cloaked figures and I took advantage of that to send an attack in their direction.

"Stupefy!" I yelled. I dodged a green jet of light and pointed my wand at them again, "Stupefy! Stupefy!" And the three men no longer remained standing.

Once they've fallen to the ground, the beast took care of them. I didn't intend to kill those cloaked men, but apparently the werewolf had other plans. He ripped them apart until they laid unconscious on the ground.

Even after they stopped twitching, the beast continued to rip them apart. I was forced to petrify him yet again. I knew Remus wouldn't have wanted to tear them up, no matter how bad they were. So with a heavy heart, I shot the curse at him, and again he fell onto the forest floor, unmoving.

I walked slowly towards his beastly figure, and sat beside him, hugging my knees. I watched him warily. His eyes looked wild and murderous, his body covered in rough fur, and his sharp teeth bared at me.

I felt a rush of sympathy and compassion towards the beast lying down before me. He had no control whatsoever over his mind and body, but I knew my Remus was in there. There was enough of him in there to not attack me and attack our foes instead.

I just then realized that he'd saved me. Saved me from a lot of trouble and probably saved my life as well. I ran my fingers along his hairy arm. "Thank you," I whispered. And then I just sat beside him, watching the snow swirl around us silently, till dawn broke and he transformed back to the man I knew.

Remus was very upset about the whole incident. He was so angry at himself for attacking me. I think he hasn't forgiven himself to this day, though I've insisted time and time again that he didn't cause me any harm at all, he even saved my life!

Since that incident, he kept avoiding me. If he thought that was enough to stop me, then he was wrong. He should've known better. He knew precisely how stubborn I was. What he didn't know was how captivated I was by him. Him and his charm.

I would've managed to have my own way if it weren't for my parents. They didn't approve of my being with Remus. They thought he was dangerous. I kept reassuring them that he wasn't like that, how he was actually very sweet and kind. And I also pointed out how he saved my life. But apparently everyone felt perfectly happy neglecting that fact.

At first I ignored their disapproval. But then they took extreme measures. They casted a spell so that my dad would be critically ill whenever I was too close to Remus. No matter how annoyed I was at him then, I didn't want to jeopardize my father's health. So I was forced to stay away from Remus.

That and the fact that Remus was assigned to live underground amongst other werewolves depressed me. I was so devastated about us not being together that I lost my Metamorphmagi skills, and my hair turned into its original mousy color. Another extreme change I underwent was with my Patronus. I was really surprised but not at all bothered when one day I found that my Patronus had changed. What else did it become if not Remus? Or at least a version of him.

My parents couldn't take this side of me any longer, so they loosened up a bit. Remus was also very concerned about me, despite his similar disapproval of us being together. He came up with a solution and handed me a mirror which I could use to communicate with him long-distance. That made me feel slightly better.

When Remus was finally relieved from his duty, I was so glad and relieved. It pleased me that the fist thing he did after he returned was seeing me. He told me we needed to talk. I was so nervous; I couldn't anticipate what was coming. Remus kept pushing me away; he says that I'm better off without him. I wish he'd see the light and know that that's not true.

I dropped by his house that evening. His house was dark and gloomy as always. But once I was inside it, I always feel a certain homey feeling. But again that might have something to do with Remus being in there with me.

I let myself in since the door was unlocked. I found Remus in the living room, facing the open window, his back towards me. He sensed my presence and called out to me gently, "Come here, Dora."

I took three strides to close our distance, and then I waited for him to turn around. As he did, I saw that he had a sort of glass globe in his hands. Inside the globe was a beautiful rose.

I gasped, "Remus! It's so beautiful… It's…"

"It's a _Rosa caroseus_," he finished for me with a half-smile. "I know how much you admire it, and I thought I'd give this for you as a gift."

I was flustered; I struggled for something to say. I took the globe from his hands and wondered, "On what occasion are you gifting me? Aren't I the one who's supposed to do that, since you're the one who just returned?"

Remus smiled again. "On this occasion," he said as he knelt down before me and pulled out a velvet box from his robe pocket. He opened the lid and asked, "Nymphadora Tonks, it took me quite a while to realize that I love you with all my heart and that I can't ever live without you. Will you marry me?"

I couldn't believe my eyes. Was this real? Then I realized that he was waiting for an answer. I jumped on him and circled my arms around him, "Of course! Of course I will, you don't even need to ask!" I was so happy; tears of joy were streaming down my face.

I let go of him so that we could both stand up and face each other. Remus was smiling, but his eyes were sad, "Dora, I know that you're glad and I'm also glad, but you should know that what I'm doing is very wrong!"

"Gibberish," I waved him off. "There's nothing wrong about love."

Remus laughed bitterly, "When it involves me and a normal human, yes there is."

"And I'm so normal? I'm a Metamorphmagus, I don't think that qualifies as _normal_," I retorted.

Remus rolled his eyes. I knew he thought being a Metamorphmagus was nothing abnormal compared to being a werewolf. "But seriously though, your parents don't approve! What are we going to do about that?" He looked concerened.

"_I_ am going to talk to them. It's _my_ marriage, after all," I said firmly.

"Please, Dora, I don't want you to get in a fight with them over me," he stared into my eyes intensely.

"I won't," I smiled at him reassuringly. "I'll make them see your true self, the one you showed me and the one I fell for."

"Thank you," Remus said sincerely.

"What are you thanking me for?" I asked.

"For saving me from myself. You pulled me out of self-pity and you made me feel more human than I've ever felt. You accepted me. And most of all, thank you for loving me," Remus said.

I blushed as we leaned in for a kiss.

As it turned out, my parents had no problem with our marriage. Sure, they found it a bit bothering, but they figured that as long as he made me happy, Remus deserves me.

Our wedding was a quiet event. We didn't want to make a big deal out of it since the wizarding community wasn't exactly sympathetic towards people like Remus.

I wore a bright yellow dress instead of the classic white – I thought the colour suited my personality better, white is kind of boring. My father lent his navy blue dress robe to Remus and it fitted him perfectly.

As we danced our wedding dance, I felt utterly blissful. I stared into the face of my husband and knew that this was my fairytale, my happy ever after. _Our_ twisted version of Beauty and the Beast.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole by Erin

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

by

icedpandacookies (Erin - Ravenclaw)

_Character -Luna Lovegood_

_ Fairytale - Alice in Wonderland_

I spotted the rabbit disappearing behind a large bush with its buds just appearing and two or three white flowers poking their heads out. He was dressed in a smart maroon waistcoat with a matching bow tie, monocle, pocket watch and a starched and monogrammed handkerchief. That's how I first knew that it must have been a dream: as everyone knows, only black and brown rabbits dress in men's formal wear; white rabbits, like this one, much prefer casual sportswear, particularly plaid v-neck tank tops and plus-fours. Still, it was such a very good dream that I decided not to try and wake up, but simply let it run its course.

I followed the rabbit behind the bush, but found that it had vanished. I looked around a little, took a step forward, and disappeared down a precisely me-shaped hole, concealed under the lower branches of the aforementioned bush.

For the first few moments of the fall, it was too dark to make out my surroundings, but all of a sudden the tunnel was lit with a strange greenish light and I could see my way.

I imagined I must be falling very slowly, for I had plenty of time to peruse the thing around me as I tumbled. The walls were lined with strange cabinet and shelves, all filled with a strange collection of objects, some magical and some muggle: there was a large quantity of willowbone china, decorated in pure, dark blue; as well as the various items of clothing and other possessions I had lost throughout my time at Hogwarts - seven years worth of shoes, for instance, and my models of the Blibbering Humdinger and the Crumple-Horned Snorcack.

I continued to fall for some time, tumbling end over end, further and further down into the earth. I was just settling down for a very long wait when I landed on the ground with a hump, my petticoats floating upwards.

Wait a moment. I had been wearing jeans just a moment ago. How had I come to be dressed in a dark blue knee-length dress, with filmy white petticoats lapping at my knees? I didn't understand.

As I began to take in more and more of my surroundings, it also appeared to be the case that I was very, very small. A huge, glass-topped table towered above me, a large pot of what smelt like irish Stew sitting on top of it.

A huge oak cabinet with fancily engraved, dark-stained doors towered over me, oppressive but alluring all at once. I wandered over, wanting to see what was inside, but found I was much too small to reach the handles. I jumped, but to no avail. I remained stubbornly tiny and unable to open the doors.

After several moments of contemplation, I noticed a ladder propped against the opposite wall. How convenient; but then, this was a dream. Things were supposed to be convenient.

But when I dragged the ladder over to the cabinet, I found it was too small to reach the handles. I needed something else...a box or book, anything to add a little height...

Just a wish or two later, a pair of red high-heeled shoes appeared on the table. Once again, very convenient. I could scarcely have designed this dream better if I'd been awake to do so. Because, of course, this _was_ a dream. It just couldn't be real...there were too many inaccuracies, too many things wrong. The rabbit's attire was just a case in point.

Speaking of which, where _was_ that rabbit? He appeared to have simply vanished. I had to assume, as there were no other points of egress, that he had entered the cabinet; and that meant, unless he was still stood in there, waiting for me to leave (which somehow seemed rather unlikely, as there was, as I have said, no other way out), that the cabinet was a Vanishing Cabinet. Where it led to, however, I did not know...all the more reason to don the heels and investigate for myself.

The Vanishing Cabinet's twin was in the Forbidden Forest - but not quite as I knew it. The colours were brighter, everything was sharper and more in focus. And the white rabbit was disappearing into the distance, a set of golf clubs slung over his back and a worried expression on his face. "I'm late, I'm late! I'm oh, so very late!" he cried.

"Mr Rabbit! Oh, Mr Rabbit!" I called after him. "What are you late _for?_"

"I don't see how it's any of your business, young lady," he said, in the sneering drawl of Draco Malfoy. He didn't turn towards me, but kept hurrying away, the bag of clubs bouncing on his back.

Well. The _nerve_ of some people. I stalked off in the opposite direction, muttering under my breath about the degenerate state of the world.

I very quickly became completely and utterly lost, and so blundered around the forest until I came to a fork in the path; there, I found two identical ginger cats hanging in mid-air and grinning wickedly at me.

"Hello Luna," they said in unison, their equally identical grins growing broader. I didn't bother asking how they knew my name - lots of people seem to. Instead, I just asked them which way I should go.

"Well, that depends-" one said.

"-on which way you want to go," finished the other.

I gave them the sort of look that ordinarily could flay flesh from bones, but to no avail. They persisted in grinning cockily at me until I gave up, and said to them, "Well, I don't _know _where I want to go, because I don't know where anything is. I would just like to know how to go _somewhere._"

They looked slightly stung, but recovered so quickly that I doubted my own eyes.

"Oh, in that case," they said togther, their voices hitting the exact same nuances on every word, "then you should go..."

"Left," said the right-hand cat.

"No, right," said the left-hand cat.

"Left."

"Right!"

It looked as though a fight was brewing, so I decided to step in before things got violent.

"Can you tell me," I said, rather more loudly than I am accustomed to speaking, "what lies at the end of each road? That will save you arguing."

The two of them shared a look, then nodded at each other.

"Down the right road-"

"-lies the Hatter's house, and down the left-"

"-lies the caterpillar."

Hmmm. Decisions. I thanked the pair of them, and watched, unalarmed, as they disappeared into thin air.

Now, which way to go? Right...or left? Left. Yes, definitly left, at least at first.

I set off down the left hand road, delighting in the sunshine in the trees and the melodious calls of the exotic birds perched in the trees. Not long afterwards, I arrived in a small clearing, empty apart from a small red toadstool set in the middle of the empty space. I only stopped because I noticed a small wooded signed, staked into the ground next to the toadstool, that read, "The Caterpillar".

Well. How helpful.

I poked my head around the corner of the toadstool and immediately became aware of a strange, potent scent filling the air. It was thick and cloying, and strongly reminded one of coconut and grapefruit and bluebells. Standing just a little way off was the caterpillar, mixing a large cauldronful of a viscous, glutinous liquid. Steam rose off of it in spirals, curling gently upwards.

The caterpillar looked up as I approached, glaring sullenly at me.

"What can I do for you, Miss Lovegood?" he asked, deep black eyes boring into me.

"I was simply wondering what you have been making, sir." Scrupulous politness seemed to be the best course of action.

He frowned at me, greasy, thick black eyebrows knitting togther. "Stupid child! Do you not recognise the characteristic spirals of steam, the silverly sheen to the liquid?"

"Not really, no, sir."

"Why not? You are a Ravenclaw, are you not?"

"I was, yes," I said. "Whilst I was at Hogwarts."

"Then you should well be able to recognise Amortentia when you see it. Now, away with you. I am at a critical stage in the brewing of this potion, and I have no time to be conversing with ignorant children!" And, so saying, he shooed me away from his cauldron and back to the path.

I wasn't sure if it was them or me, but people here seemed to be much ruder than in real life. I wasn't sure if I liked this dream so much anymore. But, then again, the twin cats had been friendly enough, and helpful, too (eventually); and I _had_ asked the rabbit a very prying question, interrupting his thoughts, which were obviously very important, and had disturbed the caterpillar at a crucial moment. Really, their touchiness was understandable, and almost acceptable. And there was still the Hatter left to meet. I couldn't make assumptions about the people here without meeting them all and getting to know them properly.

I walked back down the path towards the fork where I had met the cats to find it still deserted. In place of the identical felines, however, was a new path, pointing straight ahead. Should I...? No, I had no idea where it lead, and I already knew how easy it was to get lost here, even if it was a dream. next time there might not be any helpful cats to get me out of my predicament. I ought to take the right path - I wanted to meet the Hatter anyway.

At the end of the right-hand path lay another clearing, but this one was far from empty. A long picnic table stood in the middle of the space, covered in a checked table cloth with plates of food and jugs of drink piled high on top of it; comfortable, chintzy armchairs were dotted around it; and clocks of all descriptions lay in great mounds in-between the trees that surrounded the glade. Not one of them appeared to how the right time, and not one of them showed the same time as another.

Seated at the table were a small dormouse with a chunk missing from its ear; a hare whose whiskers looked dreadfully unkempt; and a brown-haired man who could only be the Hatter himself.

He was tall, incredibly so, and managed to seem to fill the space around him, for all he was so slim. His brown hair was mostly covered by a russet-coloured top hat, labelled "10 sickles and 6 knuts", except where it hung in his eyes, just slightly, and curled around his ears. He wore a broad, genuine-seeming smile, and looked to be the friendliest person I had met so far.

"Welcome! Luna, I presume?" he asked, taking me by the hand and leading me to a comfortable chair at the head of the table. I nodded, suddenly shy, and sat down quickly, hiding my blush with my hair.

His two companions studied me carefully, and I studied them back. The hare was small, thin and raggedy-looking, but with lustrous black hair, pulled back in braids against his skull, that he obviously took great pride in. The dormouse was harder to make out: her hair was also long, black and well-cared-for, but her face was closed and guarded. As soon as I met her eye she stood up and readied to leave. "Goodbye Hatter, Hare. Do not forget about the festivities later at the palace." And with a careless toss of her head, she stalked along the table, jumped off at the end and, landing on her feet, left the clearing, walking off towards a tall tower just visible beyond the horizon.

I looked up at the Hatter and bit my lip. I had so many questions, but didn't know where to start. I decided to settle for the least complicated one. "What festivities?"

Just as I began to talk, however, an alarm clock rang and lively music started to play. The Hare and the Hatter each caught up one of my arms and pulled me upright and into an odd eight-some reel.

We danced once, twice, three times around the table before the music faded and we all collapsed into the chairs nearest to us. This time I was sat in front of a large plate of cakes, and helped myself to one, before offering the platter to the Hare and then the Hatter. They both refused, and the Hatter answered my question as I munched.

"There is to be a party in approximately ten minutes at the Queen's palace to celebrate her birthday. All her subjects are invited, and of course we will all go. Will you accompany us?"

I merely nodded, as my mouth was still full of cake and I did not wish to appear impolite in front of the Hatter. And the Hare, of course. He was just as important.

The Hatter then poured me a cup of tea, in a cup of the same delicate china the cups in the rabbit hole were made of, and passed it to me before engaging the Hare in a long conversation about the quality of their tea spoons. I was just beginning to tire of their talk (I had eaten all of the cake) when the alarm clock rang again. I jumped up, expecting another dance, but instead my two companions stood up slowly, adjusted their jackets and hats (in the case of the Hatter, at least), and started out for the path.

The Hatter looked back at me and asked if I was coming with them after all. "It is time for the Queen's party. It would not do to be late."

I nodded hurriedly, eyes widening at the thought of what the Queen would do to those who were not punctual in the extreme, and rushed after them down the pathway.

The Queen's palace was undeniably gorgeous, the banquet divine and the party smooth-running, professional and sumptous, but her manners left a lot to be desired. She did not pay any attention to her guests for the first hour of her party, instead just stuffing her face with the delicious food prepared for her and shouting at her husband, a meek red-headed man who didn't seem quite how to react to her henpecking. When eventually she did notice our existence, it was only to organise fellow competitors for a game of golf that she "absolutely had to have".

I was selected as one of the players, as was the Hare and the Hatter, and we were each handed a club by a sulky white rabbit.

"Hello Mr Rabbit," I said, in an effort to seem polite. "I take it you were not late after all?" He just glared at me and sharply thrust my iron into my hand.

The Queen, of course, was the first to take her shot. She had been boasting to anyone who would listen about her brilliance and prowess at this game, but she was clearly lying. Her first shot landed well short of the green, but the ball stood up and ran towards the hole, throwing itself in. Everyone applauded.

"A hole in one, Majesty!" the rabbit cried. The Queen preened, tossing her hair and smiling complacently.

I couldn't take it any longer. I threw my golf club to the floor and marched towards her angrily. The Hatter clutched uselessly at my arm in an effort to hold me back, but he couldn't stop me.

"What do you think you're doing, applauding her and cosseting her like this? She missed the shot and is cheating, and yet you let her get away with it and applauded her for it!"

The Queen turned scarlet with rage, her eyes popping and her mouth opening and shutting uselessly. Eventually she regained the power of speech and asked me, her whole body trembling, who I thought I was.

"I'm Luna," I said simply. This made the Queen even more angry, now apopletic with rage.

"I don't give a damn what your name is, little miss! Off with her head!" she shrieked. I was immediately seized by two tall, burly men who gripped my arms painfully and started to pull me away. The Hatter tried to pull me away from them, but two more of the Queen's henchmen appear and grabbed him too, pulling him off in the same direction they were pulling me.

I smiled at him, grateful for his efforts to save me, and he smiled back, squeezing my hand as we were dragged towards the castle...

...And that's when I woke up, twigs from the bush I lay under stuck in my hair and poking at my sides.

It had all been a dream, then, exactly like I thought. It made me feel slightly better, knowing that I wasn't really about to be beheaded by a power-mad despot.

Rolf arrived at that moment, slightly surprised, I'm sure, to see me lying on the ground under a bush, breathing hard, but he didn't ask any questions. Instead, he just removed his brownish-red hat from his head and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair before pulling me to my feet, pulling some leaves from my hair and leading me back to the house.

I looked back as I reached the door, and saw a white rabbit standing there, fretting and checking the time on a pocket watch.


	4. Value of a Fleur by Tenzin

**Value of a Fleur**

by

Mi Hi Lover (Tenzin - Slytherin)

_Character - Fleur Delacour_

_Faairytale - Rapunzel_

Molly Weasley sobbed as the day broke out.

Her son, her only son was gone and snatched away from her without her even being able to say goodbye.

The baron of the local village had left a single note saying that her son was arraigned for being a "witch!"

Molly felt angry at the baron, it was a blasphemy! First of all her son Bill was a man, so he was a "wizard" not a witch, and none of the other village women had their sons taken away from them!

The only thing that made her slightly calm was the single Fleur in the front porch of her little cottage in Edinburgh.

She had always called it a Fleur instead of just a flower because it held special significance to her.

Her son Bill had found the seedling of it when he was just a wee boy and when he had started crawling.

Bill had gone into the grass that used to grow on the front sward and he had picked up a seed with his tiny miniscule hands and giggled.

Molly had run out of the cottage panicked because she couldn't find her son and she had found him just a few minutes later curiously inspecting a tiny seed.

Molly had smiled at the childish innocence her son showed and the next day she had planted the seed and Bill had watered it with a beaming face.

Molly shook herself out of remembrance and hobbled her way to her bed to go to sleep.

Meanwhile 1 meadow away there was a whining blonde woman and a bushed blonde man.

"Alain!"

Alain Delacour looked up wearily to where his _femme enceinte _was, and replied with a rather tired tone.

"Oui Latitia?"

Latitia Delacour huffed and crossed her arms.

"Je suis si constamment fatigué et malheureux depuis que le bébé était dans Mon ventre!"

Alain regarded with wife with weariness.

"Je vois, et ce qui pourrait être fait pour régler votre malheur Mon amour?"

Latitia pondered this for a bit and then her eyes lit up as she spotted what she wanted.

She threw her head back and cast her hand to her forehead.

"Oh, mais la seule chose qui pourrait me rendre heureuse une fois de plus est la seule fleur qui se trouve sur le perron de cette femme avec le fils qui est une sorcière!"

Alain sighed; his wife had always had a thing for art dramatique. But it piqued his attention that there could be something out there that could stop his wife from being so insufferable as the English called it!

"Très bien Mon amour, je vais chercher cette fleur pour toi!"

Then for some strange reason Latitia just went unconscious after that and Alain who was so worn down from working 23 hours at the village mill that he just went to sleep on the table he had previously been writing on a piece of parchment on.

The next day Alain set off to trek off to the old woman's cottage.

He cursed as his legs fell tired from the walk, the old woman's cottage seemed further than it was before, or maybe it was just that the meadow was really big?

"Honnêtement, je devrais brûler cette prairie!"

When he finally reached the little cottage he panted for breath and leaned on one banister to catch his breath.

He then shook his head and while he was shaking his head he caught sight of a flower.

A Fleur Pouvoir to be exact, a rare British flower more commonly known as Flower Power, and just the flower his wife wanted!

Alain carefully surveyed his surroundings and snatched the flower out of its pot, then made a break for it.

He went halfway across the meadow before a loud resounding _CRACK_, made him stop in his tracks and look behind him for the perpetrator of that noise.

As Alain screamed in terror of a very frightening red headed woman he faintly heard the _THUD _of the flower falling out of his hands.

Even as Alain stepped back in fright he still had enough comprehensive thought to realise that flowers did not make a thud sound!

Molly snarled at the imbecile who dared steal the precious flower that meant so much to her.

Suddenly she felt lightheaded and fainted. Her anger had tapped into her magic and gone straight to her brain, causing a premilanary shock wave throughout her body making her lose consciousness.

Alain quickly picked up the flower and ran out of there as soon as the old woman lost consciousness.

As he reached his own house he panted for breath, and pushed his door open with one hand carefully caressing the flower in his other hand.

He let out a shout of victory.

"OUI! La victoire est la mienne, mon amour, c'est votre précieuse fleur!"

Latitia Delacour stood upright from her place on the old worn down couch in their house and let out a little shriek of delight.

"Oh, c'est merveilleux Alain!"

Alain handed his wife the flower and triumphantly marched to the couch and sat on it with a grin the size of an adult hippo!

Molly Weasley rubbed one hand on her head and looked around with a confused expression on her face.

Why was she in a meadow?

Then it dawned on her again.

That pesky blond man from the house across the meadow she was currently in had stolen her precious Fleur!

Molly fumed, she would have to teach that man a lesson.

She lifted herself up from the ground and Apparated back to her cottage.

She spent many suns brewing a special potion and cackled most unlike herself.

_That'll teach him a lesson to take my flower!_ Thought Molly viciously.

She took 2 vials of the potion and went outside to her orchid which held an array of apple trees.

Molly was careful to put just 1 tiny drop on each apple and cast a spell on it.

_"Permissum Pomum ut grow inter meus orchid exsisto irresistable ut ullus humanus!"_

At the Delacour household, Latitia Delacour was having another of her whining fits.

"Alain! Je veux pommes, en particulier les pommes en provenance d'orchidées de la vieille femme! Je les veux tout de suite! «

Alain groaned, did Latitia _have_to have this thing ? Apparently according to her she did, Alain resigned himself that he would have to get it.

But not now no, after he had gotten some sleep!

The next morning when Alain had got enough sleep he put on a warm fuzzy cloak to keep out the cold of winter's morning freeze.

Alain didn't even have his morning breakfast; he just headed straight out, eager to finally appease his wife.

Alain was so eager that once he had gotten there he didn't even notice the old woman marching straight out to her back orchid; he was really quite entranced with the Apples there.

Molly smiled coldly and said in her iciest voice.

"Excuse me sir, but may I ask what you are doing in my orchid?"

Alain trembled but found some courage deep within to say.

"Please mademoiselle! My wife, Mon amour, is pregnant and she says that she is unhappy! The only thing that can make her happy again is the Apples in your orchid!"

Molly frowned and then scowled.

"Isn't enough that you've stolen my precious Fleur? But you have to take my Apples too?"

Alain quivered once more.

Molly smirked within; this would make the man pay.

"Oh, my Apples are rather precious but on one condition shall I give them to you!"

Alain was so relieved that he didn't even think of what he said next.

"Oh Oui! Anything! I just want some Apples to appease my wife!"

"Oh, on the condition that you give me your first born daughter shall I give the Apples to you!"

"Of course!"

Molly picked the ripest, juiciest Apples in her orchid, conjured a basket using magic, and put them in the basket.

Alain ignored the fact that the woman had just used magic and just eagerly dashed off back to his house.

When he arrived back at his house he cried out in triumph just like he had when he had gotten the flower.

He pushed open the door and cried out.

"LATITIA! Ma femme, j'ai trouvé la pomme que vous avez demandé!'

Latitia broke into a smile for once and clapped her hands together.

She beckoned Alain to come closer, and he did as ordered.

Latitia snatched an apple from the basket as quick as lightning and took a bite out of it.

She moaned in delight, it was heavenly.

The rest of the day happened without incident and for that Alain was glad.

The next day however, little Fleur was born, she was named Fleur because of the first thing Alain had taken from the old woman's cottage and subconsciously Alain remembered his assurance to the woman.

Molly Weasley rubbed her hands together and smiled.

Today was the day!

Molly Apparated herself to the Delacour's and then therein lied the unfolding drama that began.


	5. Ron's New Clothes by Flare

**Ron's New Clothes**

by

FrivolousFlare (Flare - Ravenclaw)

_Character - Ronald Weasley_

_Fairytale - The Emperor's New Clothes_

Ronald Weasley was confused. Why, you ask? Well, he had woken up to find himself in a large, hexagonal room with cream walls, gilt coving and purple curtains around his bed. He was dressed in pyjamas of the finest silk and golden thread, and even had gold rings and precious stones on his fingers. He pushed himself out of bed, glancing around.

A man came into the room and opened the pair of rich purple curtains in front of the window, letting in a barrage of light. The man then turned to Ron and bowed. "Good Morning, Your Highness."

"Bloody Hell…" Ron breathed.

"Is something wrong, Your Highness?"

"Bloody Hell…"

"Your Highness?"

"…Bloody Hell!"

The man arched his eyebrows, looking quite confused. Ron, however, looked around in amazement. He then noticed a wardrobe and ran over to it, throwing it open. "Wow…" he exclaimed, looking at all the fine clothes.

"Your Highness; your breakfast is ready." The voice came from the doorway where another man with bright red hair stood, pushing a pair of glasses further up his nose.

"Percy!"

"Yes, Your Highness?" Percy enquired. Ron blinked a few times then smirked. However, just then his stomach growled. Percy moved aside, letting a few others men roll in a trolley stacked with food. Ron's mouth watered. Percy smiled wryly. "I'll leave you alone with your breakfast," he said before leaving and closing the door behind him. Ron shot toward the trolley and began eating, forgetting about the first man in the room.

A bit later, Ron was dressed in expensive clothes and sitting on a soft, red sofa in a large room. A man with a puffy purple outfit ran in. "Two men wish to meet with you, Your Highness. They claim to be the best seamstresses in the land."

"Show them in," Ron said lazily, waving his hand. The man nodded and left, returning a few minutes later with two men in tow.

Both had coppery hair, blue eyes and wide grins, and both wore simple green tunics. They stepped forward and spoke as one.

"Your Highness. We are the best seamstresses in the land, and wish to make you a suit, more fabulous and fine than any suit you already own!"

"Oh really?" Ron didn't bother sitting up straight. The two, who he had recognised as his brothers Fred and George, smirked.

"Indeed, Your Highness," one said.

"It will be the very best," the other added.

"And what makes this suit so amazing?" Ron asked.

"What makes it so fabulous, is that only those who are wise or fit for their job shall be able to see it!"

"I see…I shall have one!" Emperor Ron decided. "Make me one at once!"

"Of course, Your Highness." They bowed. "However, before we can start, we shall require the correct materials and resources."

"Of course! Just ask my servants, they shall provide."

"Thank you, Your Highness." They bowed again and left the room. Ron smirked to himself. Being an Emperor wasn't half bad.

The two seamstresses locked themselves in a room for the next few days. However, everyday, one would leave the room to ask for more gold, silver and jewels for the suit, and everyday the treasure would be left outside their room, along with good food and fine wine. Ron, however, soon got impatient. He called Percy to him and told him to go along to the seamstresses' room and see how they were getting on. Percy complied and went down.

He knocked on the door and was soon met by one of the twins. "Yes?"

"The Emperor wishes to see how the suit is coming," Percy said stiffly. The seamstress smiled and ushered him in.

"Of course. Come, see the suit so far! Look at the extravagant colours!"

"The beautiful patterns!"

"The fine silk!"

"The golden thread!"

Percy rubbed his eyes as the brothers pointed to various bits of air by a spinning wheel. "Um…It's…it's…it's fabulous!"

The twins grinned impishly. "We're glad you think so. Now, go forth and tell your Emperor that he needn't worry, for the suit shall be ready soon!"

More days passed, and again the Emperor grew bored. He called his Butler, Harry, to him and told him to see how the suit was coming along. Harry bowed and left the room.

"The Emperor wishes to know how the suit is coming along," Harry said after knocking on the door to their room.

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" one twin asked. Harry entered the room and looked around for the clothes, but couldn't see them.

"Well, what do you think?" the other twin asked.

"Why, it is…amazing!" Harry exclaimed, not wishing to appear stupid or unfit for his job. "The colours are simply fantastic!"

"That's what we thought." The twins smirked.

"I shall tell the Emperor immediately!" Harry proclaimed before disappearing out of the room.

Yet more days passed until Emperor Ron could take it no more. He marched to the seamstresses' room and knocked on the door. "I demand to know when this suit shall be ready!"

There was a pause until the door creaked open. "Why, Your Highness…we were just coming to tell you that it is finished!"

"It is?" Ron brightened immediately. "Well, I must try it on at once!"

The twins led Ron to his Royal Chambers and told him to undress. Ron did so hesitantly and the brothers started to mime putting clothes on him, instructing Ron to close his eyes.

"I cannot feel any material on me," he said.

"That is because it is so light, you can hardly feel it!"

"I shall feel as thought you are wearing nothing!"

"I see…"

When they had finished dressing him, they took Ron in front of a mirror and told him to open his eyes. When he did, he was quite amazed by the sight.

"Do you like them Your Highness?"

"Uhh…"

"Do you like the extraordinary colours?"

"And the astonishing patterns?"

"The beautiful silken sleeves?"

"The fabulous gold and silver lining?"

"The jewel encrusted neck line?"

"The marvellous belt?"

"Um…" Ron paused. "Yes?"

"Your Majesty, it was a pleasure to make this suit for you! You are truly worthy of wearing such glorious material!" they enthused. Ron nodded.

"Indeed."

"Sadly, we must be on our way," Fred said.

"The King of Plug-Sockets has requested a hat made from the hide of a Train," George added, shaking his head.

"Have fun," Ron said. The two left, leaving him alone with his 'suit'. He then called his servants to him and announced that he would show off his new suit to his kingdom. The staff tried not to stare at his crown jewels and nodded before running off to call everyone in the streets out.

Soon, Ron was standing on a wooden platform, his hands on his hips as he was carried through the town, showing off his suit. The crowds watched with wide-eyes, trying not to let on to their neighbours that they could see nothing of the fabulous suit. Ron smirked to himself; this was brilliant. Everyone was staring at him and his amazing suit.

They were almost at the end of the street when a voice laughed. Ron turned, the crowds turned, to look at the person. It was a young woman, with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. Ron frowned. "What are you laughing at?"

"What am I laughing at?" The women smiled. "I'm laughing at you. You've got no clothes on!"

There was a moment of silence as the rest of the audience glanced at each other. Ron felt his neck and ears heating up, a red bloom spreading over his skin. The girl was still laughing, and was soon joined by the rest of the crowds, and soon everyone was jeering and shouting, "The Emperor's got no clothes on!"

Ron woke up in a cold sweat, his skin bright red. He looked around and, to his relief, he was in his own room, in his own bed, in his own pyjamas and not naked. He looked at the bed next to his and saw Harry looking at him cautiously.

"You alright, Ron? You screamed."

"Harry," Ron panted. "Remind me never to eat cheese-flavoured Bertie-Bots-Beans before bed, _again_!"


	6. Dreams of Mana by Mist

**Dreams of Mana**

by

Misty McMist Monster (Mist)

_Character - Ginny _

_Fairytale - Seiken Densetsu3_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the publicized characters herein, either from Harry Potter, or Seiken Densetsu 3. That said, any characters I've created for the story are solely my own.

**A/N for the Fairytale Challenge edition: **Hello! Welcome to another edition of my insane mind being itself. Now, Before we get started, I'd like to point out one thing: this next chapter you are about to read is actually only a teaser. The rest of the chapter will be up on my own profile within the next few days. If you find yourself interested in the story, or figuring out whatever the hell is going on, feel free to give that a read. That said, lets get on with this madhouse!

**Chapter 1: Fallen Princess**

"Ginevra, wake up!" Boomed a voice throughout the room. If one were to see the source, a scraggly old man, they would not have believed his lungs up to the task of such a feat. Yet there was no denying the effect it had on the young flame haired maiden who had been snoring at the table overlooking the small two story room the two were in; instantly she had jumped out of her seat, tipping the small wooden chair over before she looked blearily around the room.

As she did, she noted the old man near her, and then the room around her, as if confused: in realty, this was very much the case. To young Ginevra Weasley, this room- this man was entirely foreign to her. Yet he had known her name. She considered this and considered what she could remember of her day so far. She'd been fighting with Ron earlier that day-the prat had been going on about how she needed to stay away from guys like Dean and Michael (both perfectly fine when _not_ around her) and that she needed to mind her own business when she tried to integrate herself more with what had been dubbed "the Golden Trio" by some of her peers. She had _thought_ things would get better after their last year at Hogwarts, how they had all come together to form the DA and rise up against Umbridge.

Obviously, she'd been mistaken.

Honestly, that prat made her so angry some times! If it weren't for her father being there to break up the fight, Ginny would have Bat-Bogeyed Ron into next week! After that, she had spent some time out in the fields outside the Burrow, being sure not to stray to far from the house, but needing to be away from Ron all the same. The last thing she remembered was how much she had wished she were anywhere but trapped in the Burrow for a whole summer with _him_. Had she fallen asleep then? That must have been it, and this was a dream.

After following that train of thought, she adopted a serene smile as she turned to the older man, "Yes? Was there something you needed..?" The older man stared at her dumbfounded for several seconds, almost as if in her speech she'd grown another head.

Finally, he replied, "Princess, I know you don't take your studies seriously, but this is ridiculous! Forgive me, but I am a tired old man, and do not have time for this foolishness. Now, to continue your lessons for today. First, I want you to assume the basic stance for your spell casting."

_Princess?_Ginevra thought to herself, _I rather like the sound of that._ Her serene smile turned smug, and she reached for her wand as asked– only to note first what she was wearing (or lack there of) and then also note the lack of her wand. Taking in the state of her clothing: a green one-piece bodice with coat tails trailing behind and thigh-high brown leather boots, Ginevra wondered idly if inwardly she had some form of dominatrix fetish that had chosen to surface in her dreams. Casting the thought aside with a shake of her head, she turned to the older man. Obviously with this being her dream, all she had to do was ask for her wand and it would appear. "May I have my wand please?"

Again the droll, uncomprehending stare from the man, "Princess, are you feeling well? You're acting unusually strange today."

Furrowing her brow at his statement, Ginevra found herself more and more frustrated with this man, and this dream. Perhaps it was time she simply left. With a huff of frustration, she turned on her heel towards where she'd noted a door, "Fine, whatever. I'm leaving."

Stepping through the door without waiting for the man's reply, she was greeted by an afternoon sun blazing brilliantly in the sky above, though a frigid wind could be felt sweeping in clouds across the horizon. Ginevra herself shivered at that, startled by how cold it was. Perhaps it had gotten terribly cold in the real world? She had heard of such a thing being transferred into dreams, so she wouldn't be surprised. Soon enough, the wind passed, though the chill it left did not. Still, she would not allow it to detract from her enjoyment of this dream, no matter how bizarre it was. Looking around as she strolled along the cobbled stones beneath her, Ginevra realized that she was in a Castle- perhaps a palace of sorts. _Well, obviously, every good princess needs a good palace._ She thought to herself as she allowed her eyes to trail over the gardens below her, more of the cobbled passages leading this way and that, servants passing by to attend to their duties or simply attending to the gardens themselves. Several older men – obviously wizards by the looks of them – meandered about the pathways. A gentle smile touched Ginevra's lips then as she leaned on the balustrade, balancing herself on her elbows as she kicked her legs freely in the air. _Despite the chilliness, this is a beautiful place,_ she thought to herself as a flock of birds flew by overhead.

As she watched them fly by, her ears caught the Tell-tale sounds of hurried footsteps in the courtyard below. Glancing down once more, she noticed a young man, around her age with shoulder length blonde hair come rushing down the pathway from what looked like the main portion of the castle. Upon spotting her, he waved, "Princess Ginerva! Already done with your magic tutoring?" Again, her brow furrowed. Was her mind trying to tell her something? It kept bringing up this magic tutoring stuff. She knew she'd been slacking off slightly since the end of the semester, but she hadn't thought her own mind would berate her for it. Still, the young man adopted a coy smile, "You know Jose always takes his frustrations out on me when you skip out on class!"

Growing frustrated with this line of topic she replied back with a shout of her own, "Was there something you needed?"

Momentarily stunned by her curtness, he nodded his head before adopting a sheepish demeanor, "Yes, your highness the Queen has requested your attendance in the main hall. I was on my way just now to fetch you by your mother's words."

_My mother..?_ She thought, and as she did her head began to pound. A moment later, images began to flash through her mind. One after another, thoughts – emotions came pouring into her of a life that was not her own. She saw a small young girl attempting to draw the attentions of an older woman of the same frame and build. The coldness, however, of the older woman was startling, and left an aching sensation in Ginevra's chest. Again and again she saw similar instances, yet no matter what the young girl did, her mother (for there was no mistaking the similarities) showed not the slightest interest. The loneliness of the young girl was so stiflingly familiar to Ginevra that she shoved the images away. _What was that?_ She thought to herself.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she nodded to the younger man, whom she now seemed instinctively to know as Victor, "Thank you, Victor, for telling me. I'll be right down." He nodded, and went to stand by a small tree while he awaited Ginevra's arrival in the courtyard. From there, he escorted her to the Throne Room, though once at the door the mage guard there forbade Victor from entering.

With a apologetic smile back towards Victor, Ginevra turned and hurried into the throne room. As she did, she took in the crisp marble floors and columns and more of the female guards like the one at the door stationed around the room. Four stood ready around the dais of the queen, and as Ginevra approached she was struck dumb with the infallible likeness of the woman before her to the woman from in the flashes. She noted a man standing to the right of the queen – Koren, she seemingly knew instinctively- but paid him little mind. As she approached the throne, she did what seemed natural, kneeling before the queen of the castle. "Y-you called for me, Mother...?" Ginervra asked tentatively, the words leaving a bad taste in her mouth. This was not her mother, not by a long shot. Still, this dream seemed to call for her to do such, and she was intrigued to see what her subconscious was up to.

Yet, instead of her "Mother" addressing her, Koren stepped forward. "I will explain, Ginevra. As you have likely noticed, the Mana of the land is beginning to fade. Soon, our once peaceful kingdom will be little more than a frozen wasteland. To prevent this, and the greater cataclysm of Mana fading completely from our world it has been decided that we must journey to the Mana Holylands. But in order to do that, we must break the seals of the eight Mana stones, releasing the power within them. Only through this can we gain access to the Holylands."

Whatever Koren was talking about, it sounded important. Yet, it made little sense to Ginevra – Mana Holy lands? Mana stones? What in the world was he going on about? Something about all of this felt wrong – dead wrong. As if the mere thought of what they were speaking of was a form of blasphemy. These 'Mana stones' sounded as if they were anchors for something extremely powerful, and powerful things were always guarded heavily. "Shouldn't breaking the seal be impossible..?" Ginevra questioned, and it caused Koren to smile. The smile was in no way comforting, instead causing shivers to run down her spine. This man made her uncomfortable. There was something distinctly... wrong about him.

Finally, he replied, "Normally, yes. But we will use an ancient and powerful spell that has long been forbidden." At his words, a sinking feeling settled into Ginevra's stomach; Forbidden things were usually forbidden for a reason. Just what was her mind trying to tell her? "The reason for this," he continued, "is that in order to use the spell, it takes the life of the caster. Now, obviously, N**(n)**either myself nor your mother can give up our lives yet. That is why we have decided it shall have to be you that we sacrifice to save our lands."

Ice ran through her veins at this. Something was wrong with this dream – terribly wrong. Standing in shock and outrage, she shouted, "What? M-mother, how could you?"

Finally, the queen lifted her face, and for the first time, she met Ginevra's eyes. The look of scorn and hatred was plain on her face, and the scowl that coated her lips was venomous. "You, who cannot cast a single spell are a blight and shame on our royal bloodline. If you were to die using one of the most powerful spells, it would be a befitting death."

As the queen spoke, the four sentries turned as one, focusing entirely on Ginevra. As one they stepped towards her.

Something was wrong with this dream.

"N-no..."

Terribly wrong.

She wanted to wake up.

They stepped closer and still she tried to back away.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

As the last of the distance between them closed, Ginevra shook her head forcefully.

"NOO!" she shouted, and as she did her voice overflowed with magic, amplifying it so that it shook the entire thrown room. In a flash, she disappeared, leaving a bewildered queen and adviser behind.

XoXoX

When Ginevra came to next, she huddled close to herself. It was so insanely cold! After a moment of failing miserably to warm herself up, the young girl hoisted herself up and looked around her. Behind her, she found the walls of what she could only assume to be the castle. Why wasn't this dream ending? She wanted it to end.

And with that thought, came a nagging fear. What if this wasn't a dream? What if she really was here? Where ever 'here' was exactly.

What was she to do then? She couldn't stay here, that was for certain, but she also couldn't go back. She refused to die in some unknown place, in a strange world that wanted to kill her! With that thought in mind she turned her back on the castle walls and faced the forest before her. Clouds were gathering in the sky above her, and Ginevra had the distinct feeling that if she didn't find shelter soon, she would be as good as dead. Without a second thought then, she trudged out into the snow, her boots somehow keeping the frigidness from seeping through to her skin. Soon enough, she found herself passing through a clearing amidst the trees, and as she did she found her next problem. Ahead were two creatures, blue of skin and scaly of flesh. Overall, they looked like overgrown, walking fish – but their eyes belied an intelligence and malevolence not found in most animals. There was hatred there. Hatred, for all sentient life.

Even as she noted this, one of the two creatures spotted her and let out a shrill trilling sound. The other turned, and together, the two creatures charged across the surface of the snow without making so much as a footprint. In her terror, Ginevra glanced around frantically for something, anything she could use to ward them off. When nothing presented itself, she dashed as quickly as she could towards the nearest tree and lept for a branch intending to hoist herself up. Instead, as she caught it, the far end of the branch bowed under her weight, and within seconds of her added weight, snapped in two, plunging Ginevra back into the snow. Frantic and cold, Ginevra rolled off her back, the branch still in her hands as a makeshift weapon which she quickly put to use, for as soon as she came to her knees the two were upon her. She blocked the first of the two tridents with her makeshift club, then shoved back against the trident with all her fear, anger, and despair, and the fish-creature found itself thrown backwards into it's ally.

Fueled by her fear and rage, Ginevra charged the two beings, screaming madly as she swung her club wildly. At first the two were able to block or move out of the way of her attacks, but unprepared for such a mindless assault the two were quickly felled, leaving a panting and crying Ginevra in their wake. She slumped to the ground before the two corpses, nearly too tired to move. What was she doing here? Just where the hell was 'here' anyways? And why did it seem like everything in this Merlin forsaken place wanted to kill her?

How much it was that she wanted to be home. To just be back at the Burrow, away from all this madness. Her thoughts flickered to Harry, and she realized then, just how much she missed him. Even if they'd never been an item, and never would be Ginevra found that she drew strength from simply being near him. Strength, that radiated off of him in waves. How she wished she could see him one last time.

"Harry..." she whispered softly, her words lost on the wind as the cold sapped the last of her strength. Quietly, she slumped into the snow, unmoving.


	7. Hero by Julia

**Hero**

by

Julia Claire (Julia - Ravenclaw)

_Character - Severus Snape_

_Fairytale - The Little Mermaid (Hans Christian Anderson)_**  
**

He wants to talk to her – spends hours agonizing over what to say. However, the truth is that Severus has never been taught to make a friend, how to interact with other kids. He knows how to shut up, knows how to stay out of his father's way, how to block out his parents' screaming so he can get a good night's sleep. He knows the world isn't black and white, isn't divided between right and wrong. It's messed up and twisted, not a playground, but a prison, hard and cruel and cold. He knows you might as well do what you want in life, because it sure as hell isn't like anyone else is going to do it for you.

He knows all that because he's been a bloody adult since the day he was born, but he skipped all the lessons most people learn as kids. He's never played ball; he's never had a water fight; he's never had a friend.

So he contents himself with watching her – laughing with her, from the bushes, where he can see her, but she can't see him. It never occurs to him that it's weird, that it's creepy – how would he know? – and in any case, it isn't like it's love then. He's too young to feel love, too naïve, because as much as he's seen, he's never seen, never felt _that_, not yet. He watches her because she's bright and happy and funny, and yes, she's a witch, but that's just an excuse. He's liked her since the moment he laid eyes on her, but he justifies it all with the fact that she'll go to Hogwarts with him, even if she doesn't know it yet, and that, if he squints a little bit, he can forget she's a Mudblood.

He wants to be her best friend.

So he watches her, on the slides and the monkey bars, the swings and the kiddie pool, in all her and her sister's games. They play tag, hide-and-go-seek, and so many other games sprung from Lily's own imagination, the kind he could never in a million years dream up. But the game he wishes he could join in more than any other is their water fights, because he's never seen her so happy as when she's shrieking and splashing and dodging, like she belongs there, in the water, more than anywhere else.

He wants to belong somewhere, see? His house and cold and drafty and unwelcoming, full of the stink of beer, and he… Merlin… He wants to belong somewhere, and he sometimes tries to convince himself it's wrong because it probably is, but he wants it too damn bad.

Sometimes, after they go home, he'll go and dip his toe in the water, but it's cold and wet, and only makes him shiver. It's like a world that's all hers, that he can't enter, but he can't even describe how much he wants to.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

It's his grand entrance, his moment, the time he's anticipated for weeks and weeks, but the second the words are out of his mouth, he's know it's all wrong. They're scared of him – he can tell that from the look on their faces, but he comforts himself that it's only her Muggle sister who stepped away from him – not her.

"What's obvious?" she asks, the question he's been waiting to answer for what, then, feels like all his life.

So he tells her… that he knows what she is, that she's a witch, just like his mum, just like him, really, because he's a wizard.

But he knows that he done it all wrong and each new word he utters is just digging himself into a deeper, darker hole. Her sister laughs at him, calls him a liar, before she departs… And Lily, Lily follows after her, leaving him not with her trademark smile, but with a pinched, glaring expression that more suits the sister.

There's a moment, as he watches her go, when he thinks that perhaps this is justice and fairness, that perhaps they are too different to ever be friends, that the universe is trying to teach him a lesson.

If it is, he never learns it.

Perhaps it's fate – always conspiring against him – or perhaps it's just inevitable that she comes to believe him. She must have recognized the word when he spoke it – witch – must have recognized the ring of truth in his words, however poorly chosen. She has magic; she must know it, and eventually she does, so that one day, when she sees him on the playground, she tells her sister to, "Be quiet!" and comes to talk to him.

They fall into a pattern, meeting by the playground in the afternoons, underneath a cluster of trees, in the cool green shade that quickly becomes his happy place.

They talk for hours, there – over the course of many afternoons of course, for she still belongs in the cheerful white house she showed him once, with her happy white family… It is only he who truly belongs among the trees with her; she could do without.

He tells her about magic on those afternoons, of dragons and fairies and goblins, real ones, not like the ones she has read about in her stupid storybooks.

"Are there princesses and princes?" she asks him once, on only the second afternoon they spend in the refuge of the trees, when she still doesn't really understand. "You said there were castles –"

"Of course there aren't princesses," he says scornfully; indeed, more scornfully than he intended. "And the closest thing to a prince that you'll find is me."

She looked at him, slightly hurt by his tone, scrunching up her face at his last sentence.

"My mum's name was Prince, see, before she got married," he continues, in a slightly less harsh tone, feeling guilty. "So… I'm a prince… see?"

She nods, vaguely; he meant it as a joke, wanted her to laugh… but he supposes that it isn't all that funny.

They hardly ever play the kinds of games he once watched her play with his sister. He supposes she thinks he doesn't do that kind of them, as he seems so uncomfortable with so many of her childhood, Muggle things. So they never play tag or hide-and-seek or have a water fight, and sometimes, he takes it as a sign that even though they're friends, they will never truly belong in the same world.

Sometimes, in his later years, before he can remember to be cynical, before he can remember to at least try to forget, he'll wish he could have stayed with her forever under those trees, as children. He'll wish they didn't have to grow up, and learn all the lessons that even he hadn't encountered yet.

They grow up and they separate, even as they choose seats next to one another on the train, heading towards the same destination. The Sorting Hat chooses her for Gryffindor, only a few minutes before – torn about which house he wants for the first time in his life – he's made to go to the Slytherin table.

But it's inevitable, that he would go there, for he has no bravery and no chivalry and no bravado… he's cunning and ambitious and really interested in the Dark Arts. He's no Gryffindor, not like the idiots he and Lily met on the train, the ones who call themselves the Mauraders – James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. It's James he hates the most, more and more as the years pass, as they become more than enemies, but rivals, both competing for the hand of the fair princess they both declare (Snape only to himself and James to the world) they love.

He begins to think he was wrong, in their school years, to scoff at Lily for asking if there were princes and princesses, so long ago, under those trees… He's still not sure there are princes, still knows he'll never be one, despite the name he engraves in all his schoolbooks, but she soon becomes his princess, his fair maiden, in all but name.

And so he's swept up in the kind of fairy story he's always despised, but never really known why until he enters it – because a man, a boy, a person who will never be a prince can never win the princess.

The years continue to pass – much, much too quickly – for she grows more apart from him with every passing second, their respective planets spinning further and further away from one another. And he begins to make friends that she turns her nose up at, while he is constantly on edge about her relationship with James Potter – his tormentor – who she continues to insist she hates. He's safe for now, but he can't help but wonder how long it will last.

And so of course it ends, and he blames the Mauraders for years afterwards, but in his heart he's only ever blamed himself. It's a sunny day, in fifth year, not so long after the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, when they decide they have nothing better to do than humiliate him, than make a fool out of him.

She comes to his defense, his aid, but it mortifies him, to be at her mercy, when he wants to be her hero, her prince. He's fed up, and he's embarrassed, and even that is poor excuse for the word – he's never been good at choosing them – he utters next.

"….. Mudblood."

There has never been a word he means less nor a word he regrets more. He is never truly free of the nightmares, sometimes forcing him to relive the moment without any hope of changing it, and other times, showing him all the happy, happy what-could-have-beens, if it had all been different, if perhaps he had not pushed her away there…

Perhaps she would not have had to die.

But he will never know the truth of that – for he can no more change what happened that day than he can change the look on her face, after he says the phrase, so hard and cold, and hardly Lily at all.

He stands outside the Gryffindor common room and begs and begs for her to forgive him, to accept his apology, but he knows it's all in vain, knows in the moment he sees her face change that he has lost her – his princess – forever.

The last two years are Hogwarts just complete the split, and he has never been so far away from her when they pass in the hallway, and she will not meet his eyes. What makes it worse is that she doesn't do it in the bitchy way he has seen other girls avoid the gaze of ex-boyfriends – she is cool and calm and stubborn about it, and so subtle that he isn't sure if anyone besides themselves even notice, except for James Potter, who glorifies in his every discomfort.

He watches, horrified, unable to say anything to convince otherwise – and indeed, what could he say that she would not just openly defy, now? – as James Potter worms his way into Snape's own coveted, long desired place in Lily Potter's heart. Slowly, he observes her refusals – he doesn't even have to spy, like he used to in their childhood days, for privacy is a word James Potter never heard of – grow less and less adamant. He's not even sure if Potter himself sees it, but Snape has known Lily for a long time – long enough to know.

He watches, after she finally breaks down and accepts at last, as they walk down the corridor, hand-in-hand, as she kisses him after Gryffindor wins the House Cup, as they make their way down to Hogwarts for a date in Madame Puddifoot's tea shop.

Snape feels it all like a betrayal, for didn't she once scorn at all the girls whose hearts melted so easily for that arrogant toerag – her own words, in the time, so long ago now, when they were best friends? And didn't she once defend him, Snape, Sev, against the wrath of James and his fellow idiots, when now they hex him only minutes before James snogs his brand-new girlfriend?

The only thing he can take comfort in is the knowledge that this... this _relationship_ born of nothing more than hormones and mistakes cannot possibly last. She will eventually realize her folly and come back to him, arms open.

Snape will be ready when she does; for even as she made her new friends, he has been making his, growing closer with Mulciber, Avery, all the Slytherins she once told him how much she hated. But this, too, cannot possibly last. For someday soon, he and his friends will be the ones in charge.

His dreams are full of her gazing at him, wide-eyed with awe, looking up at him in sheer dumb wonder, at his greatness. Snape imagines her star struck at what the greasy-haired boy she tossed aside (his betrayal forgotten by her, if not him) has become. He will be powerful, in this new order, under the law of the Dark Lord – he swears it, promising himself that someday, she _will_ see.

And yet, even in his dreams, in the very back of his mind sits the knowledge that this vision will never work, never come to fruition. For the face he so often sees, in awe, in wonder, is not hers, but that of some lesser being, not the girl he has fallen in love with. He knows that, like he once knew the world was cruel and hard, but he lets himself forget, if only so he can hope.

It's his inevitable fate anyway. He was sorted into Slytherin at age eleven; he has always had a penchant for the Dark Arts. He has always had a hunger for ambition, for power. Always, he has longed to prove himself, since his father, drunk as a monkey, told him how worthless he was. It was, he supposed, destiny that he joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. With only one exception, he believes in all their beliefs, their mantra. He is superior to all of those with dirty blood, those who do not even deserve to have the magic they surely stole.

(Except for that one exception.)

There are moments – moments in half-slumber, which he hardly admits to himself – where he wonders, wishes to have been a brave Gryffindor, to be a prince, waving a sword, where he is jealous of James Potter for more than the girl he has.

But he pushes all those thoughts away. He was born a Snake – that was proved at age eleven, and if there's anything that life has taught Snape, it is that fate will not bend for him, however much he wills it.

She marries him.

He sees it in the back page of the Daily Prophet, a tiny wedding announcement, squeezed between all the other articles of the death and destruction of the war. He supposed the editors meant it as a ray of hope, a light, among all the darkness, the despair. Snape finds this ironic.

Later, by means which he can no longer remember, a picture from their wedding falls into his hands. She's radiant, in her beautiful white gown, with strands of her red hair falling out of their pins. Her hands are on – his – chest, and his arms are around her waist, and they're in the midst of dancing, with their fancy wedding shoes.

Snape looks down at his own feet, his own shoes, which are more like rags and much too small for him. He supposes it would hurt to dance in them, but at that moment, he can't think of anything he'd rather do, with her in his arms.

He would do anything for her.

That promise is tested soon after.

He has come to see Dumbledore – the only one, they say, his master ever feared – and now he can see why. His fury makes Severus – already more frightened than he has ever been in his life – want to curl up in a ball or else turn and run for ever.

But if he does that, Lily Evans will die. He has asked his master to spare her – with all the passivity, all the absence of passion that he will soon use as a constant shield. The Dark Lord has agreed that he will do all in his power. Yet Snape cannot let Lily's fate rest in the long, white fingertips of his master, a man of such ambition, ruthlessness and thirst for power – the traits he once admired. These will not allow the Dark Lord to spare a woman whose only usefulness is in the comfort (Snape does not use the word love) of one of his servants.

So he has come to Dumbledore, come to ask, to beg for Lily's safety – at any cost, at all costs.

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?" he asks, the great wizard, the wise wizard, who cannot possibly expect what is coming next, who must doubt him.

"In – in return?" he pauses, the answer coming immediately but, like so many other times, hardly having the words to express it. He has always been, will always been a careful man, stingy, unyielding, but as his mind races to find something that he would not give up for Lily Evans, he can only draw a blank. He gasps it at last, "Anything."

He feels stripped, bare, before this man, this man he hardly knows. It's almost as if he has thrown himself in a vast, turbulent ocean with no knowledge in that there might be a life-vest, a rescue crew, afloat nearby.

Yet he also feels relieved – not completely so, but at least slightly reassured that Lily Potter's days are not yet numbered. Surely – surely – Dumbledore can save her.

He goes home to write a few of the hundred apology letters (addressed to her) he never sends.

It's hard to know what he feels when he hears the news that she is dead.

He only thinks of her of course – it does not even occur to him to wonder about, to grieve for, the baby, the husband, to even be truly angry at Dumbledore or the Dark Lord… His thoughts are only and singularly focused upon her, as they have always been.

His heart is dull and senseless and useless… so very useless, for its only purpose, now, is to keep him alive. His eyes are full of pain, but no tears; he cannot bare the color green, the flash of red hair… and yet he pulls himself together when the Dark Lord seeks his present. His is Severus Snape, cool and collected and unfeeling as always on the outside, as his whole world dies along with hers inside him.

He has no one to give comfort to him for her death, and he is glad of it, for he does not wish to hear that Lily is in a better place now, that he will see her again someday. He does not wish to hear such lies; he has no God to believe in. Perhaps her own soul might have found its heaven – indeed, if any soul could, it would be hers – but he knows just as surely as he has even known anything that his own has no hope of joining hers there.

Nevertheless, he longs for death, longs to give up, and almost does, almost might have, except for Dumbledore, except for her son…

(He's never grateful to them for it.)

It's Dumbledore who tells him that if he truly loved Lily Potter, he would help to ensure she did not die in vain. Perhaps he is only using him, Snape, as a tool… He considers it then and thinks it all the more likely later. Yet Snape can recognize the ring of truth just as well as Lily, once, could, and he can hear his own words, echoed…

"Anything."

He meant it.

The next years are hell – hell, hell, hell.

He lives and he breathes each new day for Harry Potter, James Potter's son, whom he hates, whom he despises, whom he does not let himself see any good in. He lives every day bitter and resentful. He risks everything for people he cannot even call his friends, who probably don't even trust him, and lies to people who are convinced he's on their side. Sometimes, Snape loses track of which side he's even on; it hardly matters. His face always betrays the same nothingness in any scenario.

He's forced to kill a man he's grown to deeply respect, even after learning that he has been using him all this time.

But Lily Potter's son still stares out at him – hatefully, disrespectfully – through his own green eyes, so like hers, and in them, he finds the strength to carry on.

He never regrets it.

At last, it ends.

It's over.

His life is bleeding out of him onto the floor, and he is laced with pain, and so longs for the comfort, the nothingness, he knows that death will bring. Yet he struggles onward a little ways anyway, because he _needs to warn the boy_, he needs to tell the boy… The relief he feels when he finds his face (_her eyes)_ above his shaking, broken body is indescribable…

As he bequeaths her son with all his memories, pouring them out to him on the hard, cold floor, Snape wills him to understand.

"Take… it… Take… it…"

At last, the boy does, scooping all the memories into a flask conjured by the know-it-all Mudblood Snape has never been so pleased with.

It startles Snape, in his last few moments of life, to realize that he wants the boy to know, wants him to understand… He hopes that Harry Potter will live, will win.

But he cannot do anything more for him, so he asks something of him instead. "Look… at… me…"

He finds the boy's green eyes, feeling that after so long of thrashing on the ocean waves, he can at last be carried to an island to fall asleep.

Snape fades away in green, in Lily Potter's eyes, in the cool green shade between two worlds he was never able to bridge.

He bridges them now.

She's there, waiting for him, with James – but none of that matters now – and Dumbledore, and so many others, all guiding him the head of a large table. It's a feast fit for a prince, fit for a princess, fit for a hero….

He's lived a fairytale all along, and she was never the princess.


End file.
